Empaths Anonymous by PearlyFox
by BotheredContest
Summary: Jasper's Lament. This was supposed to be a Tweet, but I'm too cool for 280 characters. (Alice said it was cool, isn't it cool?)


**Pairing: Canon (Jasper POV)**

**Rating: M**

**Word Count: Around 2100 words **

**Disclaimer: All things Twilight is the sole property of Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.**

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**A/N I'm surprised I wrote this in one sitting, ignoring everyone around me. My cat was screaming for food, my man was screaming for food, the laundry needed hanging,.. Everyone was bothered. If you are, I'm sorry. Jasper needed a word. A little over 2,000 words to be more specific. Be bothered, laugh and be amused. He will be too, it's part of his charm.**

**Empaths Anonymous **

_**Jasper's Lament. **_

My name is Jasper Whitlock. Former Major, husband, lover and vampire. Since my wife didn't want to leave Forks just yet, we had to ensure we looked like the humans did after high school: evolved.

Alice raved about small town life and, being the empath that I am, she got me excited, as well.

She was now the proud owner of the town's most successful event planner's agency and, obviously, the only one. It was the best thing ever to happen in Forks -Alice thought so, so yeah, I'm being a supportive husband here. Alice was so successful, it made her feel ecstatic every time a job rolled in. That, of course, made me feel as fucking chipper as my lovely wife. _Delightful_

The fact that we needed to level-up our lives and pretend we were older and wiser, now -I'm already old, I know caused her to do all sorts of crazy shit. For example: she insisted I pursue a career I would never have taken on. Of course, Alice's enthusiasm and encouragement meant I had to do it anyway. My baby asked, my baby got. She's just a lucky wife like that. In fact, all the women in town were demanding to know how she did it. How did she land such a well-behaved, understanding and emotionally available guy and how the fuck did she get him to marry her?

The last part wasn't so hard. From the minute Mary Alice Brandon Cullen set her mind and heart on tying the proverbial knot with me, she got it done. Not that her visions were much help. She'd be all over the fucking place one day, having seen shit hit the fan -by a crooked pasty on 'Cake Boss' and the next watching some lame ass show on bridal couture and I was totally screwed. My Alice and her happiness were everything to me.

_Literally_.

Crap, I'm losing my train of thoughts here, suddenly very hungry even though I'd just gone hunting this afternoon. Must be because our dearest Rosalie came waltzing through our cottage dramatically hangry and ready for a mountain lion to cross her path.

Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, yeah! I'm Jasper fucking Whitlock, actually no. I'm Jasper fucking Hale -since we're keeping up pretenses that Rosalie and I are actually twins. Like I could ever have shared a womb with a woman so stubborn and headstrong. She would have killed me before the first three months of that pregnancy. Can you spell infanticide?

Sorry, got off track again. Jacob and Renesmee were just here, all tingly with baby-fever. Another thing Alice would see in her visions and ask me about. Another thing I won't be able to keep from her since keeping secrets from this crazy, life-loving, undead hyper-queen was out of the question. It has been this way since the very second she found me because she'd seen me wander around her visions. Thinking about that makes my heart ache with nostalgia. Oh, for simpler, great times where it was just me and my girl.

Again, I need to get this shit out before I go completely nuts.

My darlin' wife decided she wanted to 'use' my talents. She was not talking about my bedroom boogie bonanza skills, sadly. Although, I believe people do make a career out of that nowadays, what with the internet and all.

About three months after graduating last year, she began throwing her hints. She read about careers and watched about every fucking episode there was to find on the almighty Doctor Phil. When Alice sets her mind to something, apparently, so do I. It's my sad, unfortunate fate.

Because I'm so fucking empathic, it hurts. Literally.

As I was saying – sorry, Emmett joined Rose for dinner out in the woods surrounding our cottage And he was hungry for more than food. It makes my pants uncomfortably tight when they are like this and my insides hurt in the worst way possible to think about my family like that. My fucking family. In every sense of the word, really.

_Quit the feels, Jasper. Honestly, you're wasting people's time here._

Ah, right. Well, the famous and fabulous Doctor Phil sealed my fate that summer. Alice threw books at me left and right, in the most loving way possible, of course. Still, my poor mind and body were severely abused during that time.

I was set on getting my degree in the studies of the human brain. Let me just say: the most painful, frustrating, nail-biting times of my existence. Trust me when I say being a southern gentleman surrounded by debutantes -real ones back in the day, not the thinned-out crap they show on the Real Housewives of Dallas today, was not as agonizing. That was fucking great compared to the crap I endured in that son of a bitchin' educational system.

Alice didn't want me gone for my studies and night school at community colleges in close proximity did not result in the kind of diploma you would want hanging on your wall. She thought that was not okay and, certainly, it was not a Cullen standard. So, of course, I obliged. Because who'd want a medical diploma from a box of Cracker Jacks on their wall, anyway?

Carlisle pulled some strings to get me all the textbooks and details I needed to graduate. Our makers were so proud so, of course, I was proud I was now also a doctor. Although I wasn't the 'cool' kind of doctor who cut people open and made them all better -according to my dearest Renesmee. She was right, though. What kind of doctor hurts people with words and makes them cry before they start to feel a little better -sometimes not even better at all? The gal was right, what kind of doctor was that?

A shrink, of course.

_Doctor Hale now open for business._

Now, I confuse myself so much on the daily I almost told one of my patient's husband his wife was screwing her father-in-law. The man kept wondering why his dad was so off lately and not wanting to spend time with him, his only son. Let's just say, those folks had themselves a very weird Christmas. Talk about daddy issues. I found myself checking in on Carlisle more often since Alice was there almost every day. After all, we didn't want to be one of _those_ families.

My expertise? I wouldn't know. People come in, sit on my couch and break down. They tell me things I don't want to hear because, if they do, I can't help but, you know, help. It makes no sense, like the time Jessica and Mike came to see me, desperate. They were lacking in the bedroom -Mike was. The detailed descriptions of Jike or Messica -how the youngsters do it these days- after dark left me wrung out, lethargic and angry. So angry, I started screaming, crying and getting hard one night when Alice started putting the moves on me.

I'm such a piece of work, I've considered seeing my own shrink. You know, after hours when everyone is safe and silent at home or standing at that ledge trying to decide whether they are going to jump or not. Talking about jumping, Bella and Edward took a leap of faith when that dog asked Renesmee to marry him.

Were they happy their sweet, innocent little daughter had grown up and found love? Not exactly. I can still feel the Edward-induced headaches and soul-stabbing just by thinking about that night.

_Horrible. _

We are not here to talk about my niece and her, uh -furry friend, as Rosalie likes to call him. No, I'd better not recall that conversation or I'll be foaming at the mouth in rage and hunting down my own sister.

You get the point, right?

Okay. My job as a psychiatrist was pushing me out of my comfort zone. What comfort zone, you ask? I basically have none left. Every bubble was burst, like the piggy bank of Angela holding the sad, little coins she got tipped with at the diner. She cried as she remembered every greasy burger and even greasier patrons who tended to order them. She made me cry, too. I should let Kleenex sponsor my practice -they make shitloads of money on me. The women were the worst, truth be told. I am and always was raised to be a gentleman, even Esme saw to it her boys wooed the ladies.

That woman can wind you up so crazy, I'm surprised Carlisle hasn't sought any kind of rehabilitation retreat for the mentally insane. Hell, I'm surprised I haven't, either. I wonder what would happen if I did.

Talking about surprise. It is said my mother-in-law was thinking about moving us out, after all. And by 'it is said,' I mean my obnoxious, know-it-all, mind-reading leech of a brother so called confided in me. He should just leave the woman's mind alone. He's only making it worse by telling me. That means Alice will sense something is wrong, I'd have to tell her since her curiosity might kill the cat -along with probably almost killing me. She'd see the visions and we would be back at square one. High school in another town, another country, other continent. The list of possibilities was endless. I must tell you; we can't keep up appearances much longer. Carlisle told me people in the break room at the hospital are starting to ask where he gets his filler or his hot, young wife. Trophy wife, they called her. Carlisle felt really ambushed which made me feel violated to think about my adoptive mother in a way one's son should never think about his mother.

_Gross. _

I get that Alice wants to be done with high school. She's always too chipper, too tormented because she can see what all those kids have coming for them. Whether that's a D on a biology test, an STD from the quarterback or ADD for their future children if they keep up with the cannabis cigarettes. -that last one might have been from the good ol' Doctor Phil instead of Alice. Don't quote me on that.

See, I've done it again. Side fucking tracked. I'm such a loser, much as I was in every alternative universe in every single high school. We've done it so many times but it always seems to end the same.

Before Bella, it was Rose and Emmett stealing the show -hooking up in broom closets, destroying said broom closets and getting expelled. Somehow, it left Alice and me looking like some kind of cartoon version of star-crossed lovers since m'lady could not for the life of her control her touching and sending longing glances my way. Edward would end up the eligible bachelor, damsels twirling around his poor, unfortunate soul. Carlisle would save the day and Esme would give all the mothers in a fifty-mile radius a run for their money.

What am I talking about now? I can feel myself drifting out of focus so I need to tell you everything before it's too late. When Alice gets home, she'll drag me through mood board after mood board, tricking me into wanting to throw a party myself and end up with a lifetime supply of golden balloons. It's happened before; you know. And when I say 'lifetime,' I mean actual lifetime. We still have those and it's been five years and a tiresome amount of parties.

I was telling you about my path. My serious attempt at being a member of the working society. A fucking doctor for the mind and the people who seem to have lost it. My thesis was about a special kind of therapy: sex therapy. Alice would moan -get it? and nag about sex, the history of the different types of sex, such a tantric, BDSM and just plain old boring sex so much I couldn't seem to stop thinking about it.

In the span of about two months, Alice had ordered stuff off Amazon like a deranged Muppet. It went from French maid costumes to innocent schoolgirl, to chains on the wall or trips to India to see some whacko Kamasutra-guru. All criticism aside, we had a lot of fun that time. We still do but, again, once she sets her mind to something, she usually gets it. She got a lot of 'getting it.' My dick was eternally hard, making Alice excited therefor making me excited in an endless circle and I started writing on my thesis like a maniac.

One thing led to another. My thesis got published and now the people in my family continually mock me about my New York Best-selling-list book. Critics and lonely housewives online called me 'the one puts who puts the Jazz in Jizz,' the 'Sex-Eccentric' or the 'lady boner-whisperer.'

I will never let Alice forget she was the one who made me do it. While it was horrible to feel her reactions, it was glorious to rub it in her face that she'd finally managed to over-do it.

All-in-all, I feel like I've wasted enough of your time. This was supposed to be a tweet, but my empathic self couldn't seem to keep the lid on the feelings -again.

Okay, bye now. Alice is calling me from downstairs. She's scaring me with the cheerfulness already. She makes me so happy, I want to be her cheerleader. -There it is again, stop it!

Let me just say this instead: my name is Jasper, I'm a fucking empath. I've got issues, that's for sure.


End file.
